He shrugs. “I think that when we called and said we wanted to hire this entire boat, they moved staff to other vessels, basically trying to save money.”
I consider his words. “I expect it’s something like that. Weren’t we reading something the other week, about how the hospitality industry has never really recovered fully yet from covid. I bet they’ve taken every bit of money they can this Christmas.”
“Wonder if they really did refund the other passengers,” Saint mutters. “Fuckers.”
I don’t point out that I was the one who probably ruined all their Christmas plans by insisting we were the only people on the boat. I don’t want to look like a complete asshole.
“Still, the dining table is laid well,” I say. “Looks perfect.”
“Wow, they can lay a table.” Saint rolls his eyes, and I nudge him with my elbow.
“Cheer up. This is for Vani, remember,” I say in French. “We will ruin it for her if we’re in bad moods.”
“D’accord,” Saint finally agrees.
I leave it at that and look again at the table. The glasses gleam and the silverware is polished to perfection. The steak knives have walnut handles, which is a classy touch.
The courses include a choice between chicken and filet mignon—steak again, but I could eat that all day, every day—and a smoked salmon terrine or soup as an appetizer, and crème brulée or cheese platter for dessert.
The captain is nowhere to be seen, and I presume must be the one piloting the boat. The barman enters the room and begins to place bottles of opened wine on the table.
“The food smells lovely,” Vani says.
She’s right. At least it should all taste damn good if the smells coming from the galley are anything to go by.
She frowns and glances quickly behind her, looking for the exit to the dining area, it seems, before turning back to us.
“I'm just going to have to nip to the loo again. I swear my bladder is the size of a grape.”
I chuckle at that imagery as she sashays off across the carpet toward the hallway. I watch her as she goes, admiring the view.
Damn, she looks good in that dress, Zane signs.
“We ought to buy her lots of dresses like that.” Saint agrees. “All different colors and materials. Did you notice the boots? I bought her those.”
Of course he did.
We make idle conversation as we wait for Vani to return, but at some point, it turns into Saint relaying an entertaining story, and it sucks me in. He’s telling us about a time he hid in the Paris catacombs for two entire days. I'm not sure I believe him because I don't remember him going missing for that length of time. Then again, some of the memories of our past are hazy. Trauma will do that to you.
“Do you think Vani would like to go to the catacombs?” he asks.
I stare at him as if he's grown another head.
“It is Christmas,” I explain to him as if he's a child. “We brought her here to have a wonderful vacation in the City of Light. It's all meant to be about romance and happiness, and you want to take her into a dark and dingy place full of skeletons and bones?”
He shrugs. “Some people like skeletons and bones.”
Speaking of Vani, she seems to have been gone a long while. I glance at my watch, a trickle of unease stealing down my spine.
Where the heck is she?
CHAPTER 11
Vani
I drymy hands and pause to check in my reflection in the mirror. My eye makeup is still in one piece, and the guys haven’t kissed my lipstick off me yet. I’m sure there’ll be plenty of time for that later. I’m still feeling a little sore and swollen from yesterday, but I love that feeling, and I’ve even helped it along a little. It reminds me how hot we all are together, and how lucky I am to be able to get a repeat performance whenever I want.
Behind me, the bathroom door creaks open. I turn with a roll of my eyes, preparing to tell Saint to leave me alone for just five minutes, but my breath catches in my throat.
